


AC/DC(P) - Atlantic City: Dads Cause Problems

by mariadperiad20



Series: Foray into B99 [5]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Hurt Jake Peralta, Jake Has Daddy Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Roger Peralta's A+ Parenting, Season 2 Episode 20, Terry is a Good Dad, Trauma, blame the holidays, did i just make 2 fics in 2 days?, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: “I get why you’re mad.” Jake’s chest ached, ribs strongly disagreeing with his decision to speak, or even breathe at this point. “I disrespected you as a boss.”Jake was used to working through the pain. It wasn't like his dad accepted anything less. Why should the Sarge?
Relationships: Charles Boyle & Jake Peralta, Terry Jeffords & Jake Peralta
Series: Foray into B99 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320137
Comments: 23
Kudos: 722





	AC/DC(P) - Atlantic City: Dads Cause Problems

“I get why you’re mad.” Jake’s chest ached, ribs strongly disagreeing with his decision to speak, or even breathe at this point. “I disrespected you as a boss.”

“That’s not why I’m mad, Peralta! I’m mad because my friend insists on doing dangerous things when he’s hurt!” Terry was angry - really, properly angry, and Jake heard his heart rate pick up on the monitor.

“Oh.” Jake frowned. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You think I care more about you following orders than being safe? Jake, I care because the orders were meant to let you recover!”

“That’s not what orders are, though.” Jake shot back, trying to sit up, then groaning in pain and deciding to not do that, “Orders are to make people keep going.”

“And whose brilliant idea was that?”

Jake’s mouth opened, then closed.

Terry stared at him, clearly waiting for an answer. “Well?”

“I guess… I mean, my dad always told me that respecting your superior was the most important thing. And that disrespect was…” Jake’s eyes flicked around the room, “You know.”

“I know what?”

“Disrespect is… bad.”

Terry frowned. “Well, so is being hit by a car.”

“I thought that, if I could push through the pain, solve the case, then you wouldn’t punish me for getting hurt on the job.” Jake’s voice was quiet.

Terry’s was loud, irritated. “Peralta, we aren’t _allowed_ to punish cops for getting hurt. Otherwise, no one would be able to work the field. C’mon, man.”

“I’m sorry.” Jake stared just past Terry, not wanting to look him in the eye. “It’s just… there wasn’t anything I could do. If I was out because I was injured, I would’ve been screwed, and if I came in and failed to solve the case, I’d be screwed, and if I came in and solved it, it’d be fine.”

“That makes no sense, Jake!”

“Do you need me to call in a nurse, check for a concussion?” Boyle asked helpfully.

“Already have one.” Jake supplemented.

Terry threw up his hands, exasperated. “How could we have ever ‘punished’ you for- you know what, forget it. You clearly don’t want to be honest with me, and I’m sick of watching you run headlong into danger without a care for whether or not you get hurt.”

He turned to leave, and Jake shot up, ignoring the bolt of pain that shot through him.

“Sarge, wait!” He cried through gritted teeth, panting from the exertion of moving. “Wait, please.”

Terry stopped and turned, looking expectant.

Jake closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them, focusing his gaze on the white blanket covering his legs as an alternative to either of their faces.

“Look, my dad… wasn’t the best. He left when I was seven, but… he started hitting me when I was four. That I remember, anyway.” Jake took a shaky breath, keeping his eyes firmly locked away from them both. He could sense Terry was about to speak, so he plowed on.

“I learned to work through the pain, okay? Being stuck in the house, injured, was always just…” Jake’s shoulders twitched in a repressed shudder, “It was a bad combo. And he would hurt me when I disrespected him, and my staying home because I was hurt was a form of disrespect so…”

Jake gestured with his hand, wincing as it pulled on his sprain. “I get that you wanted me to stay home, Sarge. But I… I _can’t_ do it. I know I’m a cop and things are different now, but when I’m injured, it feels like he’s just around the corner. All the time. And I can’t exactly rationalize that I can defend myself when I can’t even move my arms to shield my face.”

Jake kept staring at the bed cover, the sound of his own breathing the only thing in his ears. He chanced a glance up, and saw that both Terry and Boyle were staring at him. Boyle looked like he was about to cry, which didn’t surprise him, and Terry looked… wow, if this was angry, he had looked positively cheerful before.

Jake felt himself pushing back against the bed a bit, as if trying to sink through it and away from Terry’s furious gaze.

Terry was going to be disappointed in him. A cop, under his precinct, being afraid of his dad because he hit him 30 years ago? He had let him down, had lost respect for him. Jake was never going to be able to look Terry in the eye again, because all he would ever see would be disgust.

Jake’s eyes dropped back to the bed cover quickly, as if that would undo everything he said.

“Jake.” Terry spoke, voice in a clearly forced calm, “That should not have happened to you.”

Jake’s head lifted up, reassessing Terry’s face. It was still set in an _extraordinarily_ angry expression.

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t be letting it affect me. I promise, Sarge, it won’t happen again-”

“That’s not what I mean, you dumb work baby.” Terry interrupted, walking back next to Jake so he didn’t have to keep sitting up. “You dad shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Uhhhhhhhh” came Jake’s intelligent reply, blinking up at Terry. That was not exactly what he had been expecting.

Except… oh, right. The Sarge was a dad. Made sense why he would take offense to it.

“Sorry for telling you. Just, forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re in the hospital because it clearly still does.” Terry argued, crossing his arms.

Jake didn’t have a response to that, so he just shifted awkwardly. Not being able to fidget was quickly becoming his downfall, nervous energy beginning to build up.

After a few moments of silence, Terry’s stormy expression hadn’t changed, and Jake realized what he was missing out on. He gulped, then quickly added, “I don’t mean that the two of you are similar - you’re a good dad, and wouldn’t, you’d never hurt your kids. That’s not what I was trying to say. And it’s not that I’m scared of you,” Jake added, seeing Terry tense at the mention of his children, “Just that, I mean, you know how I am with authority figures. Not that you’re a bad authority figure. You’re a good one, actually, it’s just that my brain sometimes knows stuff logically but my body’s like, ‘no, Jake, be afraid of him’, and that sort of thing. _Not_ that I’m afraid of _you_! Just, sort of, the idea of you, or something.”

Terry was staring at him.

Jake felt like he was drowning.

“The two of you aren’t anything alike. You’re a good dad. He wasn’t. It’s in the past. Except for some leftover trauma, or whatever.”

Terry blinked, slowly. His shirt looked like it was going to pop off from how hard he was flexing his muscles, tension clear.

“I know that, Jake.” Terry reached out as if to touch Jake’s shoulder, then thought twice, and instead patted the bed next to him comfortingly. “You’re a good kid. And a great detective.”

Jake was used to joking about how amazing he was, but hearing it come out of the Sarge’s mouth, sincere and in this moment of vulnerability - physically, he was being held together with staples and tape, and mentally wasn’t faring much better - hit Jake harder than the squad car ever could.

Jake felt his eyes fill with tears. “Oh no,” He exclaimed, “My concussion is making my eyeballs squish out of my face!”

“Uh-huh.” Terry smiled tightly at him, “I’d be proud to have you as my kid, Peralta. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you before.”

Boyle piped up. “I am so sorry, Jake. I should have known you when we were youthful boys, and not let this happen.”

“It’s fine, guys.” Jake shrugged, then flinched from pain. “Just, I promise I’ll take the time off you tell me to.”

“Jake, after what you just said, you think I’m going to just let you be here by yourself?” Terry asked, some mix of bemused and sad.

“Well, yeah. Sob story aside, I still disobeyed you, and your orders were to go home and recover, so…?” Jake trailed off, because Terry was staring at him like he was a literal idiot.

Which, given the concussion, he might very well be at this point.

“I’m not sending you home by yourself after this. I’ll have Boyle stay here until you’re ready to be discharged, and then you will be staying in your apartment with a member of the squad at all times.”

“Yes!” Boyle fistpumped, “Jakey, I’m not going to leave your side until this is over.”

Jake felt himself smile, despite the _several_ questions that raised, and turned to Terry.

“Thanks, Sarge, but I don’t-”

“Just accept the damn help, Peralta!” Terry interrupted.

“Thank you.” Jake said quickly, quietly.

Terry nodded in approval, then turned to Boyle. “I will send someone over here later. Do not let him run off.” He started walking back towards the door.

“Don’t worry Sarge, not going to happen.” Jake said loudly, trademark grin forming on his face. “Nine broken toes and a fractured fibula, remember?”

“Jesus.” Terry muttered, shaking his head as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Boyle turned to Jake, looking somber.

“I’ll kill him for you if you want.”

“What?”

“Your dad. No one would ever suspect me. I could say I’m in Oregon for their exquisite french toast, no one would suspect a thing.”

“Thanks, but no.” Jake shook his head, trying not to jar his tender neck. “He’s not worth it.” After a moment, he frowned. “Oregon’s known for french toast? That’s super normal of you, Charles.”

“Yes, it would be,” Boyle was already pulling up a chair, “Except there, some eateries have the eggs made from pelican embryo, and…”

Jake put his head back against the pillow, and idly wondered if being irrationally terrified his dad was going to pop up and beat him bloody was worth listening to Charles talk, in extreme detail, about Pelican embryo textures.

Glancing over, and seeing Boyle’s excited grin and bright eyes, made Jake smile.

Jake was glad Boyle was there to keep him company. Even this conversation, revolting as it was, occupied Jake’s mind, and all thoughts of his father seemed to slip away, back into the locked box they normally occupied.

**Author's Note:**

> two b99 fics in as many days, I know, i astound even myself. gotta avoid talking to family somehow :)))))))) ~~do i watch b99 as an escape mechanism? the answer may surprise you.~~
> 
> comments are always awesome! :D
> 
> If you like this fic, I have a few other b99 fics, and I also take requests on tumblr


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